Mishka was struggling with the wind as much as I on Saturday and part of it is the length of her locks.. She kept tilting her head trying to see out from under those sweet soft curls and the wind kept blowing them back into her eyes. She came to the fence and yelled at me with that voice that could shatter glass.. I explained to her that I had to keep going on moving this hay before the wind got too bad. I tell you - she is one spoiled bottle raised gal - who is her mother??? Oh wait it was me... After four hours of hauling hay back and forth across the farm I had to go into the house because the wind was just too much. As I got in the house and tried to climb up the stairs I remembered Miskha and her locks - by then I was stripped down to my undies and too tired to lift my arms so I guess it will be on the list for the next day... Maybe I can do to her like I do with my mess of hair - pull it back and put a clip on it... Nothing fancy but out of our eyes...
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